When A Raindrop Falls Too Soon
by The Eclectic Bookworm
Summary: There are many different universes, and in this one a raindrop falls a second before it was supposed to. The outcome is quite surprising, as no one expected for the change in this particular universe to have such a surprising outcome. Very AU.


**This was originally for the Write A Romance Competition on HPFC, but then it turned into something I was constantly editing and something that I am now quite proud of. This probably isn't a very popular pairing (I've never written anything for Roger/Luna, so I wouldn't know) but I'd appreciate reviews.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Roger Davies lies stretched out on the Quidditch pitch. He doesn't feel like going into the common room, he's tired of being defeated during the Hogwarts games, his girlfriend Annalise has the brains of the smartest Hufflepuff (which is an insult to Hufflepuffs) and he really wishes that he could have made a better impression on the beautiful veela girl he met last year. The one who made him feel so dizzy inside that he couldn't think straight.

It's raining, and he's soaked. Funny how cliche this moment is, him being upset and it raining. Maybe when it's sunny he'll be happy, but he doubts it. Rain is cliche, being happy or sad or any strong emotion in it.

A girl comes out of the castle. She's got blonde hair, and for one crazy moment Roger thinks she's the veela girl. The moment passes when he realizes that she's crying. Or he thinks she is, he's too far away to tell, but he picks himself up reluctantly and starts walking towards her hesitantly.

She hurtles down the stairs before she slips and falls.

* * *

In the story that we all know and love so well, Roger blinks and goes back to his little self-pity pit, no pun intended. He walks back to the Quidditch pitch because he doesn't want to help anyone. He becomes a famous Quidditch player for Puddlemere United.

He marries Annalise in the summer. She wears a white dress with a gorgeous train and a low-cut neckline. He lives with her for the rest of his life and has three children.

Roger, Charity, and Melanie, respectively.

Roger picks the names.

But he always wishes for something more, even though he knows he should be happy with his gorgeous wife and adorable children and fan club who worship his every throw of the Quaffle and pay hundreds of Galleons for a twig off of his broomstick.

* * *

But in this time, in this place, in this universe, a single raindrop falls at the wrong time. It had been written that the raindrop hits the ground harmlessly, but instead it falls too soon.

And the story is changed.

* * *

The wind carries it into Roger's eye and blurs his vision for a second, making him blink furiously, and for a moment the girl looks like his little sister Lucianna.

And pity fills him, for a reason beyond his capacity.

He runs to her apprehensively, unsure of what her reaction will be. Many times he's tried to help girls up, but gotten snapped at furiously instead. But then he's never had much charisma, only good looks and a knack for being in the right place at the right time.

When he gets to her, he realizes who she is. This is the Lovegood girl, the one everyone talks about in low, malice-filled voices. The girl he's tried to avoid for fear of being associated with a weirdo, but even Roger can't avoid the fact that her shoulders are shaking as she sits in a heap on the ground, covered in rain.

"Are you all right?" he asks her.

Lovegood looks up. Her face is streaked with tears, but she sounds oddly calm. "Fine, thank you."

"You were crying." It sounds like a bald, emotionless statement when he says it, and he winces and backtracks. "Are you all-oh, damn, I already asked you that."

She laughs quietly. "No, Roger Davies, I am not all right, I have never been all right, and you would not understand at all."

"No one's all right at Hogwarts," he mutters miserably. "It's all secrets and lies and gossip with everyone."

"Yes, exactly," states Lovegood. Her hair is now plastered to her face, and this makes her grey eyes stand out. Roger notices that they are very pretty, even if they are rather big. "You know, Roger Davies, I was unsure if you had any sense."

"No one thinks I have any sense," replies Roger shortly, annoyed that even the weirdo thinks he's weird. "I'm leading Ravenclaw to defeat every year, I went out with a veela girl who only wanted to show off how she could get any boy in the school-"

"Actually, Roger Davies, she went to the Yule Ball with you because you are immensely handsome. And you are very good at playing Quidditch. Don't you remember that you didn't play last year, so it's not _every _year?"

He starts. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"No one thinks that way." Her voice quivers a little, and she utters a muffled sob before regaining composure. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"I like being bothered. It's better than being ignored."

"No, it isn't." She scrubs at her eyes. "People won't bother you if you don't do anything, like what you're doing right now, but if you're yourself they laugh at you and say you're loony, and if you cry they call you a baby. You mustn't show you care."

Awkwardly, he puts his arm around her, and she suddenly dissolves completely into hysterical sobs, burying her face in his shoulder. He sinks to the ground, gently, patting her on the back a little.

Finally, she pulls away and rubs clumsily at her eyes with a last shuddering sigh. "Do you know," she says conversationally, her voice showing no hint of her crying fit (which Roger finds both unnerving and impressive) "Do you know, that that was the first time I have cried in a long, long time. I do hope that you won't mind me talking to you, it's just that I don't know anyone else I _can_ talk to. And it's likely we'll never talk again, so that's why I'm talking to you in the first place."

Roger sighs. "I'm sorry."

"I'm certain that you're more popular than me, though." Lovegood's voice is tinged with bitterness. "People don't even know my name sometimes. I'm certain you don't either. It's Luna."

Luna. The name fits this girl, because the beauty Roger sees in front of him is not of this earth.

_Damnit, Davies, you have a bloody amazing girlfriend! Don't even think it!_

He smiles a little sadly. "Popularity is all about how well you can mask your true self, Luna. I'd give anything to have the freedom you do."

"No, Roger Davies, because you have a choice. You can give it up, any time." She stares at him balefully.

He nods thoughtfully. "It does _seem_ like that, doesn't it?"

She smiles slightly.

* * *

They walk up to the stairs, but she stops and says, "This is where I leave you. I like the rain, you know."

"Yeah, rain is nice." Roger internally berates himself; he sounds immensely stupid.

Luna's face twists into a shy smile. "Rain is nice," she echoes, and she takes off at a run, slipping and sliding through the grass, twirling in a fairylike way.

* * *

"Were you talking to the Lovegood girl?" asks Annalise during one of their snogging-in-the-common-room-to-show-how-gorgeous-we-are-as-a-couple fests. "She's totally mental, I'm surprised you didn't know. Completely insane."

Roger looks over into the corner.

Silver-grey eyes stare back at him.

"Oh," he responds awkwardly, "she isn't _that_ bad."

Annalise laughs. "Good one, Roger," she breathes, and her long blonde hair spills over her shoulders as her slightly swollen lips meet his again.

* * *

The next day he sees her curled up under a tree in the grounds. She's drawing a picture.

He sits down next to her, apprehensively. "What are you doing?" he asks.

She stares at him, then asks quite seriously (yet with no hint of sarcasm, which Roger finds amazing) "Do you make it a habit of asking silly questions?"

Roger smiles a little. "Yes, actually. It's my middle name."

"No, your middle name is Everard."

He stares at her, astonished. "How-"

"You look it, I think." She smiles. "But I haven't answered your question yet. I am creating."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I am drawing a picture, and then I'll enchant it to come off the page."

"You know how to do that, then?"

Luna nods. She doesn't smile, much, but Roger likes that. Too many girls are giggly, but with Luna he can tell that she sincerely listens. "It's very fun. Would you like to try?"

He draws a toy ship, which when she enchants off the page is rather misshapen.

"It takes lots and lots of practice," she tells him patiently. "I wouldn't be surprised if you never got it at all. My mother invented this spell, you know."

"That's amazing," he tells her sincerely. "Maybe we could meet here again at some point?"

To his surprise, a rosy blush dusts Luna's cheeks.

"Yes," she replies, a slow smile blooming like a rare flower on her ethereal face, "I would quite enjoy that."

* * *

"Roger Davies, do you look or do you see?"

She calls him by his full name for some reason that she doesn't bother to explain to him. He doesn't mind too much, because there is something somewhat comforting about the title.

"Is there a difference?" he replies curiously as he sketches the soft curve of a miniature globe.

"Oh yes, an enormous one. Here, you're sketching Asia wrong." She takes his hand and guides it tentatively. His cheeks grow warm at her touch, and his hand closes around hers.

She has a very warm, soft hand. It's paler than his and he notices that each nail is painted with a letter, so her four longest fingers spell LUNA.

"Ginny did them for me," she explains as Asia loses some of its roundness. "Now, what do you see when you look at that paper?"

"Asia," Roger responds instantly.

"Really?" Luna looks amused. "Because I see that atop the paper, you are still holding my hand, and you are also blushing. And because of this I can gather that you are unsure of whether or not you are attracted to me. This of course is perfectly understandable because we are of different worlds, Roger Davies."

This surprises Roger. "You're...very insightful, Luna."

She smiles at him. "That sounds much nicer than _nosy._"

Roger grins back at her, and tries to _see_ instead of look, but the world looks the same as it always has and he doesn't understand how she can see that well at all.

* * *

However, as time progresses, she teaches him.

"Look at that Slytherin girl," she tells him. "There are burn marks on her arm. She's having trouble in Potions."

"How do you know that?"

"Look at the way she's holding that paper. She doesn't want anyone to see her grades. She's afraid that someone will find out that she's incompetent. See how shy and scared she looks? But she isn't incompetent, because she's an amazing writer. See the extra quills in her bag? She writes what she sees. Like me. Like you someday, if you can learn to see."

Roger realizes that it's probably true, and it amazes him that this fourteen-year-old is so amazingly perceptive.

He keeps his eye out, and soon he is getting there. He isn't as good at noticing as Luna is, but he's better than before.

* * *

There are lots of rumors, all of which Roger denies, about him hanging out with Luna for sex, to cheat on Annalise, so she can tutor him, stupid stuff like that.

"Don't these people realize that there will soon be a war going on?" she says one day as a small china cat Roger's drawn springs gracefully from between the pages. "That their little taunts and rumors will mean nothing when half of them are dead?"

"You're morbid." And there isn't a war going on. All the stupid Dumbledore business is way over Roger's head.

"I'm realistic," she replies with uncharacteristic fierceness, and it takes a while for Roger to put together the pieces and realize that day was the first day of the bullying.

* * *

It starts small. Little things, Luna's textbooks going missing and her socks disappearing-small stuff like that. But then things get bigger.

Annalise is especially mean to Luna. She constantly whispers, spreads rumors, and trips up the fourth year in the hallway when she's certain Roger isn't looking.

One day Roger sees a large bruise on her forehead.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

She nods, but does not elaborate, only picks uncomfortably at her satchel and creates a skull out of the paper.

* * *

Luna hears whispers all the time.

"_little weirdo…"_

"_thinks she has a chance with Davies…"_

"_like he'll ever want a freak like her…"_

They aren't the whispers of the Voices, the ones carried to her on the wind, the ones her mother taught her to hear.

No, these are the whispers of spiteful students.

Ginny tells her to ignore the prats, but _she _didn't fall down two flights of steps and bruise her forehead because Annalise tripped her up.

* * *

Roger hurries down to the grounds, eager to see Luna and show her the new drawing that he practiced all week.

But Annalise blocks his way.

"Lovegood has another engagement," she says sweetly, innocently, batting her eyelashes and pouting her lips. "Come on, Roggie, we haven't spent some..._time _together in ages."

He likes what's implied in that _time,_ and all thoughts of Luna fly from his head. Had he known what was happening to her, he would have hurried back.

* * *

That night in the Ravenclaw common room, Roger wakes up and realizes that he fell asleep during Charms homework.

But then he hears whispers, and doesn't open his eyes.

"Oh yes," hisses Annalise, "the Slytherins were more than happy to jinx the little boyfriend stealer. Thought she could get my Roggie, ha!"

"There's a pecking order here," adds another Ravenclaw Roger doesn't recognize. "Little bitch's got to learn."

Roger's stomach twists unpleasantly.

* * *

The next day Luna doesn't talk to him at all. She ignores him when he passes her, she ignores when he tries to take her hand, she ignores everything with a glimmer of tears in her eyes that only he can see.

Because after hearing in the common room what his girlfriend hid from him for so long, his eyes are sharpened by the betrayal.

He catches her in the common room, finally, near the end of the day.

"Luna, I-" he begins, but then stops. The look in her eyes is of utter fear.

She turns away and hurries up the staircase to the girls' dormitory, out of sight.

And the utter fury at Annalise, the girl who would do such a horrible thing to someone she doesn't understand (because that's it, that's what Luna's taught him, hatred and unfriendliness and judgement is all based on fear of the unknown and fear that they themselves are inadequate) prompts him to turn to the gorgeous Ravenclaw (who is standing behind him with a smug smirk on her face) and hiss at her, "We're done."

She flushes an angry fire-engine red. "Roggie, think about what you're saying," she coos, but now he hears the suppressed anger in her tone. How long had that been there without him noticing? How long had she been a horrible person who hid her insecurities by hurting others?

"I have," he replies strongly. Time to take charge of his own life. "I have. And if you take this out on Luna, I swear to God I'll hex you until you can't walk in a straight line."

She looks like she's about to explode, but both of them know she doesn't want to ruin her image. Roger's gambled and won, because popularity is everything to Annalise and she's never going to understand the love (yes, _yes_, it _is _love, pure and strong and true, and finally he can admit it to himself without fear of the opinions of the others) he feels for Luna, the love he's only now learning to put above all else.

Luna has taught him to see. To truly see.

And as he turns away from Annalise and from the life he once led, he notices that the dark-haired girl lounging in a chair and staring incredulously at him has nails bitten to nubs from stress, and a blonde boy pausing by the door has dark circles under his eyes because his cat (Roger can see the cat hairs) kept him awake all night.

He's learned. He's finally learned.

* * *

He waits for Luna by their tree the day after.

She comes down the steps and runs to him, not in an adoring way (or is it? Luna is still a mystery to him) but in the way of one seeking out comfort, and sitting down next to him

"I didn't know they would do that," he sighs miserably. "I didn't want them to hurt you. I'm so sorry, Luna."

He takes her in his arms. She gasps slightly, but does not pull away, and he realizes that he's broken through her wall she's built back up since that rainy night on the Quidditch pitch, the night where Roger found his destiny.

Luna Lovegood is, and always was, the one thing that he was missing.

"I'll protect you," he tells her. "I know you don't need protecting, I know you're strong, I know you didn't scream when they hurt you because you aren't like that. But I still will protect you. You're stoic, Luna, and I think that that's why I love you so much."

She stares at him for a moment, then smiles at him with radiant beauty and leans up.

Her kiss is nothing like Annalise's, the kiss that burns with fire and passion. No, Luna kisses him and his heart nearly stops, because somehow all her love is contained in that one kiss, somehow he can tell that she loves him more than he'd ever imagined.

He pulls her tighter to him with a soft gasp, trying as hard as he can to be as physically close to her as is humanly possible. One of his hands is tangled in her dirty-blonde hair, the other playing with her butterbeer-cork necklace. He can feel her hands splayed against his chest and a little smile on her lips.

"Luna," he mumbles against her mouth.

They break apart, and Roger realizes that Luna is lying on top of him in the grass. He doesn't remember touching the ground.

Luna rolls off him and snuggles into his side with a pleased little sigh. "I love you, Roger Davies," she breathes.

"And I you, Luna Lovegood."

"I know."

They both laugh, lazily, for even though there might be a war (he's decided not to argue with her on that one), even though both of them are certain they'll be torn apart by events beyond their control (everyone says first loves don't last, but then Roger loved Annalise, so did that count as a first love?), the now is a spring sun and the smell of grass and the feel of Luna cuddled into him, and on that day, in the grass, their arms around each other, Luna's soft breaths revealing that she is slowly falling asleep, everything is perfect.

* * *

He marries her in the spring, five years after the war ends. She wears a yellow dress that ends at her knees and has lovely embroidered sunflowers all over it, like eccentric polka dots. They have three children.

Roger, Chrysanthemum, and Meadowlark, respectively.

Roger picks the names.

* * *

**Reviews? And even if not, hope that you enjoyed!**

**-The Eclectic Bookworm**


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